FIRST impressions last, and from the moment we first made our impressions on the comfy sofas in Llandudno's newest bar, we knew they would last.

We could feel the tensions of a hard day's work evaporate as we tried out as many dictionary definitions of the word "lounge" as possible.

Lounge, in a prime spot at the pricier, top end of town, is located in the building that used to house the popular Gresham pub which became U Bar and Wicked Wolf - neither of which seemed to become a regular fixture on Saturday night pub crawls. But Lounge appears to be pretty successful at competing with nearby eating/drinking haunts, the Fat Cat and Fountain Bar.

With soft lighting, art deco design and the relaxed ambience of a metropolitan wine bar, Lounge has triumphed where its predecessors failed. With a state-of-the-art big screen complemented by the aforementioned comfy sofas, the place is also perfect for whiling away time on a Sunday afternoon watching Premiership football, or supping a quiet few pints while enjoying Christina Aguilera videos on MTV.

So we thought it would be the ideal place to go for some top-notch nosh. As we perused the menu, salivating at the prospect of beer-battered cod, the lounge burger topped with bacon, mushrooms and melted cheese and a range of paninis and Italian ciabatta sandwiches at under #4, we were conscious the clock was ticking. Lounge only serves food until six, so at quarter to we had to be quick.

But we were always asking for trouble ordering a full three courses 15 minutes before the chef was closing his kitchen. We decided to share a lounge combo between four of us as a starter - a plateful of barbecued chicken ribs, chicken yakatori, spicy breaded chicken balls, filled potato skins and garlic bread served with barbecue sauce. And just to prove you can never tire of too much exotically-flavoured chicken, we also ordered some chicken tikka skewers with lightly curried mustard.

Our starters were delicious, but unfortunately the hors d'oevres were to prove the highlight of the evening, at least from a culinary point of view.

Steve's chilli con carne was the first to arrive, and the rest of us applied ourselves with instantly revitalised vigour to his nachos, only to find they were stale. His rice, meanwhile, was dry and still stuck together in the shape of a boil-in-the-bag packet.

I had toyed with the idea of cajun chicken breast, but in the interests of balance Jono and I both ordered hickory chicken, the idea being to have two different views on the same meal. Another bad decision. While the potato wedges were lovely, the chicken was more than "smothered" in barbecue sauce, as the menu stated - it was practically strangled in a slurry of the sickly liquid.

Rich got the best deal. He paid top dollar for his mixed grill, but the rest of us were jealous when it arrived. The gammon was still sizzling even as his feast was put before him. With Welsh lamb chop, rump steak, pork sausage, black pudding, chips and grilled tomato filling the plate, it would have made an industrial-strength cure for the most indomitable of hangovers.

In the interests of research we had dessert as well. With four different gateaux on offer, we decided to order one of each and fight over them when they arrived. But five minutes later, the barman returned to tell us they only had sticky toffee pudding, so four sticky toffee puddings with custard it was.

It was clearly a ploy - with all that deliciously thick treacle inside us there was no way we were going anywhere, except straight back to the comfy sofas to watch Christina Aguilera and discuss the relative merits of the videos bidding for the Christmas number one spot. After a few beers we had forgotten all about sickly barbecue sauce and dry rice.